


That Lucky Old Sun

by bucky_at_bedtime



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, fluff with a lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 13:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucky_at_bedtime/pseuds/bucky_at_bedtime
Summary: Set after Civil War, you and Steve are laying low, but neither of you is too happy about how things turned out. You try to help him forget for a little while.





	That Lucky Old Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @bucky-at-bedtime

He was sitting in an armchair across the room, his back towards you as he stared at the droning television, a crease between his brows. His chin rested in his hand and his thumb stroked across his jaw. The frown, understandably, hadn’t left his face since you left Wakanda.

“Steve?”

The quiet word seemed to echo throughout the entire room, breaking the silence that had been filling the room for the last few hours. His head twitched towards you, but he didn’t fully turn around, eyes trailing on the news report - _‘Thousands of dollars worth of destruction.’_

“Steve, you have to stop watching that… it’s– it’s just causing more pain.” You whispered, pulling yourself up from the bed and walking towards him.

A few hours ago, you had watched as Steve dropped his best friend off at Wakanda, putting him the advanced care of T’challa’s people. It had to be done, but that didn’t mean it felt good.

You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he finally broke his stare, turning to face you. His eyes were red and weary, both of you were tired from a lack of sleep but neither of you wanted to sleep. It didn’t feel right.

“I– I feel like I should be doing something” he murmured, his eyes flickered down to your hand and he pressed his own on top of it, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“There’s nothing we can do right now Stevie, we’re– we’re criminals.”

“Don’t say that,” he mumbled. His fingers curled around your hand and he brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to your wrist and squeezing his eyes shut. “We’re not criminals. We have to trust in what we believe is right” he whispered.

You watched him for a moment, taking note of the bags under his eyes and his slumped shoulders. You knew he couldn’t take his mind off his fight with Tony. You pulled away, picking up the tv remote, switching it off and instead, wandering over to the speakers and pressing play on your phone.

Steve watched you the entire time, the crease in his forehead slowly dissipating as you smiled gently, walking back towards him. He knew the song you played immediately - a popular song from the 40s that he had shown you - and his lips curved up slightly, comforted by both the song and you.

The first few notes of “That Lucky Old Sun” by Frankie Laine filled the small motel room and you forced yourself to smile despite it all. “We’re gonna be okay, baby,” you murmured, reaching your hand out to grasp his and pulling him up from the chair. “We always are.”

He pulled you to his chest, one hand still holding yours tightly to his chest whilst his other snaked around your waist. You fell into the rhythm of the song carelessly, finding comfort in each other’s touch.

_‘Show me that river, take me across_

_Wash all my troubles away_

_Like that lucky old sun, give me nothing to do_

_But roll around heaven all day’_

You hummed the words quietly against his shoulder, your eyes closed as you let his warmth consume you and all that was left was the music and the two of you, spinning in lazy circles in a dusty room.

His fingers ran gently across the small of your back, moving in sync with the tune. The dim lighting sent streaks of dim yellow across your slow-moving bodies and he began to hum lowly under his breath.

You reveled in the sound of his voice and a shiver ran down your spine as his warm breath brushed against your ear. You lifted your head from his chest, pressing your forehead against his and letting your hand tangle into the short hair on the back of his neck.

“We’re gonna be okay, baby.” you murmured. His eyes closed and you watched a tear escape between his lashes, trailing down his cheek.

_Good Lord above, can’t You know I’m pining_

_Tears all in my eyes_

_Send down that cloud with a silver lining_

_Lift me to Paradise_

You separated your hands, lifting the hand that used to be holding his up to wipe the tear from his face before pressing a kiss to his cheek where it had been. You pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and he opened his eyes, searching yours for reassurance.

“I’m so tired, sweetheart,” he mumbled, the muscles in his jaw twitched as his jaw clenched. He was trying to stay strong.

For a moment, you could see everything he was feeling - the guilt, the sorrow, the pain - but then you pressed your lips to his, a gentle kiss, and it all faded away, replaced by what you could only describe as love.

“I love you,” you whispered, “and we’re gonna be okay. You still have me. You’ll always have me, Steve.”

“I love you so much,” he whispered, and as the last chorus of the song begun to play, he pulled you back into his chest, and the two of you continued your languid steps, spinning slowly, even after the song had finished.

_Show me that river, take me across_

_Wash all my troubles away_

_Like that lucky old sun, give me nothing to do_

_But roll around heaven all day_

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @bucky-at-bedtime


End file.
